Looking For Angels
by Arsenic Cupcakes
Summary: Rasler died in the battle for Nalbina. Ashe died in the battle against Vayne. Their legacy lives on in their daughter Adanna, who with the help of allies old and new must now reclaim the throne for House Dalmasca once more.  AU
1. Her Story

**1: Her Story**

_Shortly after the most unfortunate Death of Lord Rasler Heios Nabradia, his widowed Wife, the Lady Ashe, found he had left her with an unborn Child. Though the Lady weeped for her Lost Love, all the same she felt Obligated to Care for the Child, and so went into Hiding. She gave Birth to a Daughter, remarkably the Second of the Dalmascan Lineage, and Cared for Her more than a year, when She was Called Away on a Fateful Mission with the Resistance._

_This eventually led to the Rebellion of the Lady Ashe and five other Certain Individuals: the Returned Captain Basch Fon Ronsenburg; two common Rabanastrans by the names of Vaan and Penelo; and a pair of Sky Pirates, Balthier, otherwise known as Ffamran Bunansa, and his Companion, the Viera Fran. Together they fought against the Empire, the Lady Ashe all the while thinking of her Daughter, and Resolving to Destroy the Empire's Tyranny so that her Dear Child might live in Peace. However, it was to be Her Doom._

_As Lord Vayne Carudas Solidor of Archadia attempted to Destroy the fleet of the Resistance, using Rabanastre as a battlefield, Lady Ashe and her Party fought most Valiantly to defend their Cause on the Sky Fortress Bahamut, heart of the Archadian fleet, and were Successful. However, though her dear Subjects, the Citizens of Dalmasca were to be Liberated and have their Honor restored, Lady Ashe's Life was Forfeit in the Battle. The Whereabouts of the Others with Her were Unknown, many of them also presumed Dead._

_As a Close Friend of King Raminas during his rule, and having considered the Lady Ashe my Niece, I felt it was my Duty to see to it that her Child was Cared for, and was given the Peaceful Life which the Princess had wanted for Her. Little did I know that in Future Years, the Child Herself was to be led on the Path of Heros, just as Her Mother was._

_~Memoirs of Marquis Halim Ondore IV_

_

* * *

_

Ondore's tired eyes focused on the small child in front of him with a kind of morbid curiosity, an affection that tasted of the salt of tears. Just over a year old, she stood awkwardly on her infant legs, balancing by placing her tiny hands in Ondore's upturned palms. She looked directly at him. She had the button nose, rosy cheeks, plump face, and gaping mouth of most toddlers, but the stark blue-gray of her eyes was unmistakably an inheritance from her mother.

"Favfer," she gurgled.

"'Fafver?'" Ondore mused.

She looked inquisitive, as if searching for approval.

"_Father_," Penelo commented. "She seems to like the idea of having a father."

She and Vaan stood a short distance away, speculating. It was all they could really do; they were still in emotional shock.

Ondore looked again at the little girl. She was still wondering.

"Yes," he said, only a bit grudgingly. "Yes, I am your father."

"Fafver?"

"Yes, father."

The little girl grinned and giggled in the most delightfully innocent, childish way, and scrambled forward and fell on him with little arms outstretched. He embraced her and marveled at her soft baby skin and soft baby hair. How long had it been since he had embraced a tiny, giggling Ashe? She would certainly have been the last child he'd held. He might have found the irony disgusting, troubling – if he didn't owe it to this little girl to be above such obvious grief.

* * *

"Ashe said she wanted Adanna to be hidden from any possible enemies, until she was old enough to reclaim the throne and defend the kingdom," Vaan explained. "She told Larsa that since he would be Emperor of Archadia, she would like him to – well – warm her seat for her 'til then."

Vaan shrugged nonchalantly, in a way reminiscent of Balthier. Ondore somehow found this repetition of Ashe's will unnecessary. Rather than answer, he asked the question most prominent in his mind.

"You are said to have been killed yourselves," Ondore said, "yet here you stand. What could you tell me that would convince me my beloved Ashelia is indeed also deceased?"

He paced across the drawing room with his back to the two young Rabanastrans. Out the nearest window was the sky around Bhujerba, and he took comfort in the familiar sight. Curtains of royal purple velvet did his worrying for him, shaking and snapping and fussing under pressure of the wind. The little girl slept in an adjacent room, one of his woman servants in her company and two sainakih standing by the door like the inanimate objects they were taught to be, in the midst of an intimate conversation like this.

"We saw," Vaan said in a sober tone.

"How did she… pass away, then?" Ondore implored after some hesitation.

"Vayne, he… he got her… just before he died, he… got her right… here – " Vaan clasped his abdomen, just below his sternum, and then struggled again to continue.

"Basch was there in a second," Penelo continued for him. "I felt so sad, not just because… I knew Ashe was dying, but because I knew it must have been hard on him. I mean… he couldn't protect her father, he couldn't protect her husband, he couldn't protect their kingdom… And now he's lost her."

"You saw her perish from the wound?" Ondore pressed. "With your own eyes?"

"Yes," Penelo said, and Vaan nodded in agreement. "She died in Basch's arms. He wanted to help her – he tried – we all did, but it was just too much. She couldn't be healed." She paused. "She told Basch… To make sure Adanna was kept safe. And then she just… was still. She just stopped breathing."

Ondore still kept his focus on the skies of his home, though they filled with tears. "I see."

"I'm sorry," Penelo added, her eyes watering too.

"I just wanted to be sure. That is all."

Silence. An entire stupefied, interminable minute of silence.

"Where is Basch Fon Ronsenburg now?" Ondore asked, changing the subject.

"I don't know," Penelo admitted.

"Last time we saw him – well, before leaving on the Strahl, on the Bahamut, just after Ashe died – he said he'd failed too many people. He asked all of us to make sure Adanna was taken to someone trustworthy, instead of him – he said it was the best way to keep his promise to Ashe," Vaan explained. "I'm not sure he meant it like that, y'know... but… It doesn't matter, because we never saw him again after we landed. He took off."

"I see," Ondore said again, gritting his teeth. The hatred he'd once felt for Basch, when he still believed it was he who killed his dear friend Raminas, had secretly been rekindled in his heart.

* * *

"Lord Larsa Ferrinas Solidor!"

He was hailed with the title by the Judge at the podium. Thousands of Rabanstran citizens gathered in the square before him, sweat beading down their faces in the Dalmascan sun, and beneath that their angry grimaces clear on their faces.

Was this what his brother had seen when he was appointed Consul not so long ago?

_Certainly not_, Larsa thought as he was reminded of the painful truth of Vayne's evil. _He would not have worried so over ruling a nation that was not his to rule. No, he would have relished it._

Larse stepped up to the podium and wore a serene and somber smile suited to the audience. All were not impressed.

"All of you, of the fine kingdom of Dalmasca," he began, "I will not try to fool you with diplomacy and words of extravagance and petty little promises. I could not deny that this is a difficult time, especially for all of you, in Ivalice's history. I would only speak what I know to be true to you. Indeed, I did not lie to you in telling you of Princess Ashelia B'nargin Dalmasca's true demise, as unfortunate as it is."

The lightning of an entire city's anger crackled in the air.

"Princess Ashelia was my ally, and my brother Vayne… a traitor," Larsa said. "This is the truth. I knew not the extent of my brother's evil. Had I only known… Gods know I would have stopped him from killing such a noble woman, rightfully the heir of your kingdom."

The Rabanastrans attempted to interpret the sincerity or lack thereof in this statement.

"But I cannot change it now," Larsa continued. "Much as I wish my companion and your Princess could have taken back her kingdom, she cannot. Now I have come to rule in her place and lead Dalamasca and Archadia both. I do not do this to complete those evil intentions of continuing to conquer Ivalice. Never would I do such a thing. I do it because I want to fulfill the dream of an extraordinary woman most pure at heart who wanted nothing more than to see her fallen nation flourish again under her rule – the rule of the first Dynast-Queen – and enter a new generation. We can still do this for the Lady Ashe. I ask you believe me once more and accept the hand of the Empire so that we may rebuild Dalmasca in her memory. What say you, people of Dalmasca?"

Larsa realized how painfully fast the beat of his heart was, striking at his chest, while he stood and waited, hoping he had said enough, that they would accept him and welcome him. The crowd stared, mouths hanging open with astonishment. He wasn't sure what they were thinking, and neither were they for that matter.

_Damn you, Vayne_, Larsa thought, though he was not often privy to such profanity, even in his mind. _Damn you and all your lies… They look at me and see _you_. They think me some wicked mastermind, feeding them more deceit_…

His thoughts were deafened by the gradual rise of a roar from the audience. "For Queen Ashelia!" someone shouted from within the crowd, and a couple others repeated it, and it spread like a wave until all the people of the city were chanting the phrase to the sky.

"For Queen Ashelia!" The cry echoed within the walls of the Cathedral, a ghostly cry, one that may have been heard by the unseen ghosts of Ashe and Rasler beside the altar. It reached the Royal Palace, and the palace could perhaps be satisfied again after thirsting more than two years for the presence of its lost dynasty. The rumblings of their cheers stretched into Lowtown, and the woeful lot of lost souls in its alleys might have been saved.

"For Queen Ashelia!" Larsa pictured all this as their triumphant cries pervaded the desert air. He pictured the glory of the kingdom restored. _I will be better than Vayne_, he thought. _I _will _be better than him because I _must_ - for them__._

_

* * *

_

A sly smile appeared across the wrinkled, brown face of Emperor El-Galo.

"So now the Lord Larsa rises to power over Archadia and Dalmasca both."

His court surrounded him, expectant, apprehensive, in their somber but noticeably fine apparel. They tried to predict what their Emperor could possibly think of this.

"It seems very bold of him, to have claimed the late Princess's kingdom as his responsibility," agreed the heavily decorated woman next to him, who carried herself with the pride of a woman who had spent many years in aristocracy.

"Al-Cid, my nephew, what has Lord Larsa said to you of this?" the Emperor beckoned.

The familiar suave young man stepped forward, his sunglasses removed. "Your Highness, it is truth that he seeks only to fulfill the Lady Ashe's wishes. He feels he is best-suited to the task, as he knew her heart."

"So he spoke to you," another man in the room spat venomously.

"Forgive me," Al-Cid remarked, "I thought we had already established that Lord Larsa is worthy of our trust. It is Vayne who was our enemy."

"He is of Vayne's blood. We must not forget this."

"We cannot forget this," the Emperor said. "But we cannot simply assume Lord Larsa deceives us with his words, either. We will bide our time for now - and in the mean time, keep a very close watch on his activity."

Al-Cid stepped backward, grimacing. A considerably burly, uniformed man approached El-Galo now. His blue military garb was adorned with medals of all kinds. He held his fisted hand firmly over his trophy-covered heart in salute to the monarch. "My Lord," he began, "I shall see to it a team of the nation's best spies is gathered, and are sent to track the young Solidor's every move."

"Very good, Sir Ad-Haneul," the Emperor responded gruffly. "If he is indeed keeping any secrets from Rozarria, we shall know of it, and he shall know of the strength of our own Empire."

The secret that was Adannaya Heios Dalmasca did not go over well.

* * *

A/N: The first part with commentary reminiscent of Ondore's memoirs in the game was difficult to write, since I don't *technically* know which words are supposed to be capitalized… In any case, do you guys reading still think it sounded/looked alright?

And of course, any CC on anything other than that specifically is always appreciated. If you know me, you'll know I love getting feedback! Especially when I'm writing a story as _technical _as this.


	2. Her Speculations

**2: Her Speculations**

_15 Years Later_

_721 Old Valendian_

For the past years he'd spent presiding over Adanna's life, he had always experienced that internal conflict of what to tell her, and what not to tell her. To keep her inheritance a secret seemed improper, but to tell her everything would make the young, naive girl a danger to herself, were she to brag about her rights to another.

So he achieved an awkward middle ground in which he'd always told her she was a princess. Ondore didn't know if she ever took the title at more than face value. For all he knew, she was only thinking of the tiaras and dresses the title would merit, and not the territory and people and politics and all the other strains that would become hers to fret over as well. He also tried to make her aware, once she was old enough, that he was not her biological father, that she had parents who were royals before her.

One day he found a ten-year-old Adanna rifling through a folder of portraits he'd collected. Each rustling sheet of parchment had the face of many people he knew and had once known. Adanna looked through them with politely curious eyes and began to ask Ondore as he approached who each of them were. Ondore identified them one after the other, dreading the moment she would find Ashe and Rasler's wedding portrait.

Once she did find it, she gaped at Ashe's face with shock. "Father, she kind of looks like me, don't you think? Do you think I'll be that pretty when I'm grown up?"

Ondore smiled bleakly at the portrait. Ashe and Rasler had posed for this drawing a week before their ceremony. The faces of blushing bride and adoring bridesgroom were as yet untouched by the troubles of the imminent war with Archadia. Instead they both looked lovingly ahead, glowing, as if they couldn't wait for the artist to finish up so they could gaze into each other's eyes again.

"I am sure you will be every bit as beautiful," Ondore said. "It is only right you have her looks. She is your mother, Adanna."

The girl was floored. She gave a little shriek of some feeling between surprise and excitement. "Ashelia? That's my mother?" She scoured the picture again. "Who is the man with her?"

Ondore sat on the chaise beside her and put his arm around her still small shoulders. "You remember I have told you there are many kinds of fathers in the world?"

"Yes?"

"You also remember that I am your father in spirit? That you had another father before me, your father by blood?"

"...Yessss?" Adanna was beginning to look more bewildered.

"This," Ondore said, pointing to Rasler in the picture, "is he. You won't remember him, but he was your father first."

Adanna studied the picture again, and made not a sound. They both looked in the eyes of the young couple, and pretended it was Adanna who they looked at with such affection, though she did not yet exist at the time.

"My parents," she proclaimed.

Ondore felt a tug at his heartstrings. "Yes."

* * *

"An Address to Your Highness, Emperor El-Galo Margrace.

As Your Majesty had again requested, I had commandeered my team of elite spies to investigate the recent actions of the Archadian Empire, after suspicions following what seems to be a sudden strengthening of alliance between Emperor Larsa Solidor of Archadia and Marquis Halim Ondore IV of Bhujerba.

It appears that Emperor Larsa has been most preoccupied with several trips to Dalmascan capital city, Rabanastre, all of which have been only vaguely explained even to his closest companions. It also seems he is moving a great amount of cargo and especially Imperial soldiers into the Dalmascan region. Upon investigation into the Senate's role in these recent schemes, they also seemed fairly distanced, but have been recorded as saying Larsa's recent activity consists of many "preparatory" and "preventative" measures within Dalmasca.

It has also been confirmed that the Emperor Larsa does indeed meet often with Marquis Ondore, and in seemingly remote locations. Certain paperwork which was found in the City of Archades indicates that the meetings involve a third party. The only details of this third party we have is that it is some sort of political wing represented by a young woman named "Adannaya". Even this information was carefully concealed, and still our spies are working to obtain copies to send back to Rozarria so that Your Excellency might see this with his own eyes. The elusiveness of this case, along with the evidence we have found, leads us to believe Archadia's new alliances are a sign of a major political plan being developed from which we peculiarly have been excluded.

We will continue to search for further evidence detailing this plan further until His Majesty bids us do otherwise, and I will follow up with more reports immediately.

Signed, the Imperial Rozarrian Army Commander and Intelligence Operations Chief, Ad-Haneul Gargas."

* * *

Adanna was nearing her seventeenth birthday, the coming-of-age, and Ondore thought more vehemently on her mother's will then he had in ages. What more would he tell her? How would he tell her? How to make such a leap, to suddenly announce to the world that a daughter of Ashelia yet lives, and now must take the throne of Dalmasca? It would like be the culmination of the political shock and hysteria Ondore had dreaded for years. Cool and calculated as he was in his position as the Bhujerban Marquis, he was not altogether sure of how he might handle something like this.

So he decided to collaborate with one of few other people to know about Adanna in the first place, Larsa Ferrinas Solidor.

Since it was difficult for Larsa to travel too far from Archades at the moment, Ondore agreed to meet him at his home in the Tchita Uplands. He made a vacation out of it, and brought along Adanna, as well as his sister, who she had ever known as "Auntie", and her children, two of Adanna's best friends.

Sayre Halim Ondore VI, the eldest of her children, was a year older than Adanna and would become the next Marquis after himself - an ally of Adanna's in the future, now he thought of it. His younger sister, Nahla, now sixteen years of age, was especially close to Adanna as girls were wont to be.

The Solidor Manse in Tchita was very private, and beautiful, as Ondore had perceived. The estate consisted of the house itself, grandiose in size even beside the glittering lake and the surrounding savannah, as well as a small personal airship hangar, chocobo stables and a fenced-in field dedicated to the birds, gardens and servants' housing near the manse, and a lakehouse on the shore, probably for hosting summer parties, with a dock extending from it.

Larsa was there to greet them at the hangar. "Marquis Ondore, it has been a very long time!"

"Indeed it has, young Emperor Larsa..." Ondore returned the greeting jovially, replacing his native Bhujerban with the common Ivalician language. They shook hands and Larsa turned to introduce himself to Ondore's sister, a slighly heavyset woman with still the same striking Bhujerban handsomeness. Adanna and her friends glanced at their surroundings. There was much to look at between the vast property, the chocobo-drawn carriage ready to take them up to the house, the servants in Archadian dress busying themselves with the Bhujerbans' luggage, and then the judge magisters standing nearby.

Ashe's eyes were fixed on one of the judges almost immediately. She recognized the armor, especially the helm decorated with twisted, downturned horns. The man had always scared her a little when she was younger, and even now he gave her a strange, unsettled feeling. She noticed Ondore always seemed to give him the look he gave to those he did not particularly like, but still wanted to be diplomatic toward. Adanna practiced the same look on him.

* * *

It wasn't long after the introductions that Larsa and Ondore sat in the parlor with the windows open and the breeze sweeping in, talking to each other of recent issues. Adanna tried to listen, being interested in the politics of Ivalice herself. The Emperor Larsa spoke of recent conferences he'd had with representatives from Rozarria. The two empires had had an alliance for years, but it seemed Rozarria had become restless in their position for some reason.

"I believe it's the new tariffs I'd arranged," Larsa said. "They're upset I've put higher prices on Archadian exports to their country. I feel I must do this, though, really - the recent fall of the Phon Manufacturer's Company hit the economy a bit harder than I expected..."

"To be sure," Ondore agreed, speaking in the typical Ivalician language rather than Bhujerban, "I had always thought their industry to be quite important especially to certain foreign nations, even in Dorstonis..."

"It is nice to have such a fine mining industry to fall back on, no?"

They both laughed at this, as did Auntie, who sat among them but didn't seem to have much to say. Nahla slumped a little in her chair. She was a girl with a wiry build and a lively expression that usually showed just what she was feeling. Her drooping eyelids and angrily puckered lips suggested that she was fairly bored at the moment. Meanwhile, Sayre sat the far left, looking away from the party. He had piercing eyes like the rest of his kin, but Adanna had always felt that they were different somehow. Right now, his features were left expressionless. Showing no hint of thought seemed to be a peculiar habit he had when listening to something intently.

"My darlings, you look so forlorn!" Auntie said, eloquent as ever. "Don't tell me the heat's getting to you!"

"Perhaps you're all feeling a bit bored with all this talk about taxes?" Larsa said, smiling. "You should go outside and enjoy yourselves for a while. You're welcome to go swimming by the lakehouse, if you want."

"Of course, I think they've been looking forward to visiting the lake," Ondore said suggestively.

The three shook themselves out of their little reverie and looked at each other. Silently agreeing they had nothing better to do, they dispersed and left their elders alone.

"Gabranth," called Larsa, and a great suit of armor materialized from the side of the room.

"Yes, my Lord," its voice answered.

"I would like you to accompany them out to the lake," Larsa said.

"Lord Larsa," Ondore said, almost hastily, "there's no need for them to have a guard while out on the lake, surely?"

Ondore's sister sighed with exasperation, probably because of the heat, and began to cool herself with an ornate fan which she had in fact bought in Archadia. The younger ruler considered Ondore with a modest but sincere smile. He was no where near the child he was when he took the throne, but still he had the handsome features of a young man not yet thirty years old - and he had always been clever and thoughtful, ages aside. "Perhaps Sir Gabranth won't be needed. In fact, it's likely he won't. But then, no harm would come of his being an escort, don't you think?"

Ondore stiffly looked to the face of the horned helm. The judge magister's head tilted forward in what could have been interpreted as a bow, but Ondore chose to ignore this.

"I suppose you are correct," he finally said. "He shall go with them then - and watch from a distance."

The last part seemed to have a hidden meaning, for anyone who bothered to listen.

* * *

"So if you're a princess..." Nahla began, and Adanna quickly shushed her.

"That frightful judge magister is standing by," she explained.

They both sat on the edge of the open deck stretching all the way around the lakehouse and out onto the water, dangling their feet in the waves. They'd spent a couple of hours swimming now. The Tchita sun was setting on the horizon hailed by a fiery spectrum of colours. Adanna and Nahla had tired of all the activity and were taking a break, while Sayre's tanned arms and dark hair could still be seen splashing around on the surface. Whether out of stamina or just a boyish desire to show off, Sayre insisted on staying in the water.

Meanwhile, the same judge with the eerie horned helm loomed in the background, hidden beneath the eaves of the lakehouse and watching them all, under Larsa's orders.

Nahla giggled. "You're afraid he knows Bhujerban? I highly doubt it! Who even knows if there's a hume underneath all that armor in the first place..."

"Sometimes I really do think there's just ghosts in those suits! I thought as much when I was younger, anyway!" Adanna added. "I mean... they just don't really do anything, do they?..."

The two girls turned and just barely glanced at the judge so as not to be seen (not that they could tell where his eyes looked anyway) and quickly turned back and only giggled again.

"You were saying?" Sayre suddenly floated belly-up in front of them, arms crossed behind his head, his dark hair plastered to his forehead with lakewater. "About Adanna being a princess?"

Nahla frowned. "I didn't know you were listening."

"What about me as a princess?" Adanna prompted Nahla, ignoring her sudden annoyance with her brother. She half-wondered herself - "If I'm a princess, then that means... what exactly?"

"I wonder, if you would become a ruler on your seventeenth birthday?" Nahla said.

Adanna had no need to consider the question now - she'd already pondered it enough, though thinking about it never really got her any answers. "I don't know. I came from House Dalmasca, I know that... But I can't claim Dalmasca when it's been accounted for by the Archadian Emperor..."

Unseen, the judge magister gave a slight movement at the word "Dalmasca" amid their foreign words.

"What if your father is speaking to Larsa about that right now?" Nahla postulated.

"Do you think so?" Adanna cocked her head in thought. "I don't even know... I don't know what I'd do, if I ruled a whole country..."

"Neither do I," Sayre said. He smiled knowingly at Adanna. "I think we will learn, soon enough."

She smiled back at him, feeling a little less anxiety, though secretly she told herself not to think too much on soon becoming a Queen, lest she start to get really upset... It was all speculation, anyway. House Dalmasca had long been dead to the world, now. How could she take the country back?

* * *

Late at night, Adanna still couldn't quite quell her thoughts. Though peacefully bundled in light bedsheets suited to the warm weather, her eyes were wide open, looking around the ornate bedchamber, decorated with the crest of Archadia in many places, and at the bed next to her where Nahla lay still, breathing deeply, messily covered in her sheets so that only one foot and one splayed mop of jet black hair were visible.

She kept picturing herself in some sort of opulent dress and tiara, standing at the foot of a palace she'd never seen and with thousands of people making a huge ruckus in the plaza in front of her. As she finally began to grow tired, this image melded into her dream, and things in the picture began to change. She looked entirely unsure, even a little afraid. Her father was not there - not even the parents she'd seen in the portrait...

As Adanna began to doze, an imperceptible shadow of a man appeared in one of the tall, slim windows, elevated on the walls so that it should have inaccessible to anyone on the outside. He slithered down the wall on an unseen rope and soundlessly hit the floor.

...Sayre and Nahla weren't there either. But that judge magister that always scared her emerged from the crowd, ascended the steps to her royal dais...

The shadow approached her bedside, slowly, cautiously, and brought out a small needle, coated in a potion meant to inflict a person with powerful sleep magicks.

She didn't know what to make of this.

"I am a queen," she said. "I should not be afraid of ghosts."

For the first time, she heard this mysterious figure speak. "Neither should I."

Adanna woke suddenly at a stinging sensation in her arm. She quickly turned her head and saw the shadow, his hand grasping the needle in her exposed arm, panicked, screamed - too late, though, he'd stuffed a handkerchief in her mouth. For one flickering moment, Adanna was shocked at the indignation of the man, to stifle her so. Just as she began thrashing, he withdrew the needle - where it went now, she didn't notice - and he grabbed her just as she was beginning to feel the effects of the potion. By the time he had her in his arms and was readying himself to exit through the window, she'd lost consiousness.

One out of the manse's current population saw the chocobo standing in the shadow of the building, fully harnessed and with straps binding its beak so it could not make any sound. He saw the man come from the window, awkwardly place Adanna's limp body in the saddle, and ride off with her into the distant savannah lands. He knew to go after them.

"Neither should I... Neither should I..." The voice filled Adanna's head, submerged into oblivion.

* * *

A/N: This story gets tougher to write by the second. Like I said, very technical.

Feedback, anybody? ... I know you're there. T_T


	3. Her Kidnapping

A/N: **HEY! LOOK E'ERYBODY! RIGHT HARR!** I have a short announcement to make before you begin reading this latest chapter that is actually not a shameless self-plug but a shameless somebody-who's-not-me plug, and that is that I hereby dedicate this chapter (and what the heck, I'm in a good mood anyway... the whole dagnab story!) to ma amie Morrigan Edana, on occasion that it's her birthday! (Well, it was her birthday, this is both a belated birthday present and an unbirthday present! ;] )

* * *

**3: Her Kidnapping**

Adanna slept for what seemed a very long time, while her mind continued to devise all sorts of images - she was surrounded by a flock of chocobos, all shuffling noisily around her and squawking in her ears. A chunk of strange, glowing magicite appeared in her hand and she received a sudden sense of dread from the thing, and she threw it as far out as she possibly could, into the sea of frantic yellow birds. A voice, smooth and demanding, said, "Stop throwing that, you're hitting the ghosts!"

The stone would appear in her hand again, and again she would throw it, again she would be scolded, again, again, again... Eventually one of the chocobo's heads turned into the horned helm of the feared judge magister, and he kept saying, "...you're hitting the ghosts! I'll keep putting that stone back in your hand!" The sun was oppressively hot...

_He's a chocobo...?_

Adanna opened her eyes. It was all this greenish-blue color, all around, with some kind of aquatic luminescence to it... Water! Water, it was everywhere! She began to flail and was surprised when she surfaced almost immediately.

She coughed up the water she'd swallowed in her shock. When all her hacking and wheezing stopped and she could see straight, see saw at once the bright sun that had been beating down on her. No chocobo magister. First she saw the water in question, a shining pool that really looked quite peaceful save for the ripples she caused shivering in the center of it. Her nightgown billowed under the water like the wings of a butterfly.

All around the pool of water, palm trees stood with verdant green fronds hanging down, and beyond those, sand and sand and sand upon sand, dunes of it everywhere, with occasional gusts of wind picking it up in sprinklings and carrying it across the strange landscape.

Still not sure what to think of the new scenery, Adanna slowly clambered out of the shallow pool, feeling only a little bit better when her bare feet touched the unfamiliar sand. The nightgown, now limp, dripped water all around her.

She had only to look up, and she saw him, and shrieked - her kidnapper. Yes, it was true! She'd been taken from her bed in the night, and this was the culprit! It hadn't been a dream like everything else... And he just sat cross-legged on the sand there, watching her almost casually. He was undoubtedly foreign to both Bhujerba and Archadia. He had mocha-colored skin and a shag of jet-black hair, dirtied and tussled by the desert wind, and dark eyes which watched her in an almost bored way, as if whatever she did next was imperative only in some scientific study.

"I underestimated de potion, it seems... Forgive me for tossing you in de water so," he said after a long pause. His speech, his tone - so suave, and yet he anunciated each syllable as if each were a fragrant flower being plucked from the ground.

Adanna shrieked again and bolted. Running proved to be more difficult than she'd expected on such uneven, loose earth - she was surprised at how she stumbled so in her flight. She thought perhaps she'd still made some progress, until she felt a hand grab her shoulder and pull her backward - she turned, began flailing at the source of this unwanted hand, slapping and punching and kicking, and when the second hand reached out and grabbed her other arm, she purposely fell to the ground, ended up getting partially dragged through the sand. She kicked some more, even more violently, with no regard for the fact that the action caused her skirt to fly up and reveal her undergarments. Now an entire arm came and grabbed her around the waist, binding her own arms to her sides, and she tried to wriggle out of this grab enough to elbow the form behind her - she was completely without abandon now and kicking up sand all over - once she freed the one arm, elbowed him, and feeling the other hand about to restrain her again, she reached back, felt a stubbly chin, and ignoring the strange texture, shoved him back by the neck with her palm. The hand still was able to restrain her, and after a little more futile writhing in the sand (which she now realized was extremely hot) she started to tire of it, accepted her fate, and went limp in the grip of her kidnapper, to which he sighed deeply and said, "You are like a child throwing a tantrum. I daresay your mother would never stoop to such conduct."

"What would you know about my mother?" Adanna asked, still tired from the struggle, completely disregarding the comment except for the phrase "your mother".

"I was a companion of hers, and Emperor Larsa's, even before you were a year old," he answered. "I would be happy to explain, if you would agree to cease your resistance."

Adanna's heart skipped a beat, and she had to force herself to think, _What if he's lying?_ But of course this newfound excitement would have trumped any answer to that question, so she said, "Alright." The kidnappers grip loosened. She stood up and realized her damp skin and nightgown were absolutely plastered with sand. She looked with disgust at the dirt caked under her fingernails.

"Eh..." the man began, seeing her uncomfortable expression, "...I have a change of clothes for you, if you so desire..."

Adanna frowned. "I suppose I'll have to change."

* * *

The judge magister leaped off the chocobo and landed with a shower of sand and a rattling of armor, and the bird screeched as if it were just that happy to have such a great weight lifted. In the distance, a crowd of tough-skinned hunters, men and boys in their peasants' clothes, seeq with their curious grimaces, and wiry bangaa standing with arms crossed squinted through the Phon sunlight at him and scowled, as if they expected trouble.

He marched through the sand, cape fluttering in the wind, maintaining the form of a warrior. As a judge magister of Archadia, he was used to this kind of prejudice. It was hard to kill such skepticism.

As he approached them, the leader, a formidable bangaa with scales painted in dark reptilian green like war paint, stepped up to him and asked, "What could we have possibly done to warrant a visit from one of the Emperor's elite?" The question was a more a threat than an inquiry.

"Perhaps you could tell me," the judge growled. "Do I have reason to find you suspect?"

"The Hunt Club has never committed any crimes against the Empire," the bangaa replied.

"How do you know it is the Hunt Club I have come to investigate?"

The irritated bangaa bared his jagged fangs. "Then what is't you want, Judge Gabranth?"

"I have come to ask," Gabranth continued, "if you have seen a Rozarrian pass through on chocobo."

* * *

He nodded and directed Adanna to a small tent by the oasis. As they approached the structure, he reached in first, grabbing a large knapsack and pulling out a pile of fabric from its depths. He lobbed it to her with a simple, "Here you are," and gestured to the tent again. Adanna warily watched him walk over to the chocobo tethered to a palm tree some distance away before she crawled in the tent, and even then she sat and listened to the excited bird and his murmuring voice and the shuffling of supplies until she was satisfied that he was busy feeding the chocobo and had no intent of entering the tent while she was half dressed.

The clothes supplied were a man's shirt with short sleeves and buttons, a burgundy vest with yellow embroidery, and a large baggy pair of shorts that fit her like a great canvas, which she remedied with a sash for a belt, and tightened the cord in the hem of the pants so that they tied just above her knees. She hadn't realized how very hot it was out here - the clothes were oversized and felt almost like some kind of soft sackcloth on her, but she was glad for the loose clothes in this kind of heat.

When she emerged from the tent, the man was still tending to the chocobo. She stepped out cautiously, eyeing the man as if he were lower than dirt, lower than the strange mounds of soil piled up all around them, so that if he were to turn around he would see that she was angry, the child of the Marquis was extremely angry, and he had been wrong and was insolent and should bow down to her and beg forgiveness and return her immediately from whence he had taken her. But he didn't turn around.

She walked toward a nearby pit of ashes, apparently an extinguished campfire, and she went on tiptoe as if she expected he'd set traps for her. He still didn't turn around. She sat cross-legged by the nonexistent fire and waited. When he still didn't do anything more than talk to the chocobo and pat its great feathered head, she yelled, "Hey! What about my mother?"

The man sighed and said something she could not understand, something in another language. Now he turned, and still he didn't look at Adanna as he walked up to the fire pit and sat across from her.

"What is it you want to know?"

Adanna started. "I - I don't know..." She paused. "How do you know her? Who are you?"

"Well... You know of your mother's rebellion against de Empire?"

"Um, not really..."

"Ai!" the man exclaimed, waving his hand to emphasize how very pitiable her answer was. "Tell me you at least know about Archadia's occupation of Dalmasca! This is all just history."

"Yes, I know all that," Adanna said, eager to prove she wasn't stupid. "They destroyed Nabradia and then they conquered Dalmasca."

"And of course, you know what happened to your mother and father den."

"Well, yes... I mean..." she hesitated. "They were royal Dalmascans, so they were driven out or went into hiding or something..."

"Ach!" the man lamented. "No, no, no! You know nothing of your parents even?"

He stared at Adanna now with a deep concern in his eyes, and she felt uncomfortable under his gaze, not knowing how to react. "Wh-what more do I need to know? Tell me..."

He nodded. "Fine, den. It is time you knew. But know... It is a sad story."

And he began in his exotic accent to weave a tale of two noble parents whom Adanna had never known outside of their proper, good-natured wedding portrait. She saw her father, not of Dalmasca, but a prince of Nabradia, marching through legions of Archadian soldiers, the smoke and ashes, fighting to defend his beloved princess and the only kingdom he had left. She saw him laying in his elaborate, pearl-white armor in a coffin lined with hundreds of flowers as her mother kneeled beside him, tears streaming down her beautiful face, for her lost husband and their unborn child. She saw the same woman fighting with the Resistance, swinging a vengeful sword at the Archadian soldiers who had taken her palace, spitting in the face of the tyrant Judge Ghis on the Dreadnought Leviathan, bringing the Treaty-Blade down on the Dawn Shard, commanding the great Belias, protector of the Dynast-King in life and death, rejecting the Occuria's will with fiery words. She saw her mother finally fall to the sword of Vayne, saying her last words with still the same confident voice as she died a somehow bloodless, peaceful death. Finally, Adanna saw the little girl she had embraced and kissed tenderly just hours before, saying, "I will be back for you, my dear, and when I return we will be free."

And somehow, though Adanna knew she had been that same little girl, she couldn't believe she was. These two brave individuals were somehow far away from her. Only in a fantasy could these two be her parents. This man just made them sound courageous and noble. Of all the people in the world, Adanna could not be so lucky as to be descended from Rasler Heios Nabradia and Ashelia B'nargin Dalmasca.

"Do you understand now?" the kidnapper asked after finishing his story.

"No," Adanna said bluntly.

He started as if he were about to protest, but then clamped his mouth shut and simply stared at her as if she were some incredibly complicated scientific equation. For a long time, there was silence. Adanna had no more questions to ask. Now, she just wanted to think.

* * *

_706 Old Valendian_

_Shortly After the Destruction of the 8th Fleet of the Imperial Archadian Army_

Humidity accumulated under the watchful eye of the Dalmascan sun, an annual occurence that hailed the coming of the Rains in the South. The heat never let up, of course, but the skies might sometimes be blessed with a rare silvery hue from all the clouds building in the atmosphere.

Today was one such day. Other than the clouds, there was the anomaly of unusually windy weather. Ashe stood at a window overlooking the street and watched the billowing canopies of the bazaar. Dressed only in the blouse and pants of a common citizen, without the burden of her armor, Ashe listened to the voices of her people outside and to the quiet breathing of the sleeping child nearby.

Basch entered the room, regal and cautious in his stride, as he had always been. He saw Ashe's form at the window, quiet and wistful - and likely not wanting to be disturbed. He turned his gaze to little Adanna's body laying on the bed, swathed in sheets. It was strange how a child's face could be making such foolish, wild expressions like a flan's strange grin in one instant to this most angelic and restful of looks. Strange, but of course charming. Basch saw every bit of Ashe in the girl.

"Already the little princess sleeps?" Basch said quietly.

Ashe spoke as if she were not surprised by his presence. "She has been so tired of late."

"Perhaps she takes after you."

Ashe's tilted ever so slightly toward him. "And what is that supposed to mean?"

Basch detected the annoyance in her voice. For a moment, he wished he'd picked better words. So many years of life now and still so much to learn.

"I know Your Majesty is very troubled of late," he said. "I only wish you would rest more and not let these matters bother you so."

He continued to look at her, though her back was still turned to him, waiting for her response. She remained silent, and his eyes remained on her, on her sand-colored hair dancing in the wind, the strands rising and falling like the tongues of some beautiful, angry flame. He began to see what she saw in the wind - not just the foreshadowing of the journey to come, but the same cruel elements which always came into play in her life. The friends and the enemies and the truths and lies that fought each other and battered the unfortunate people and things in their midst. In that wind that whipped through the Muthru Bazaar, he saw Vossler, still haunting Ashe with his betrayal, and all the other deaths and betrayals and tragedies that Ashe had seen in her time.

"I only meant well, My Lady," Basch said. "Forgive me."

He turned to walk away, and Ashe's voice suddenly rose up again.

"I have forgiven you, Basch. I have known you as long as I have been alive. I trust you. I should have always trusted you."

She turned and looked at him with sad gray-blue eyes. "Of all the most prized possessions I have in this life, only these remain: my kingdom..." - she gestured out the window - "...my dear daughter..." - lovingly she ran her fingers through Adanna's soft hair, and then she turned to face Basch again with her most royal dignity. "...and... my loyal knight."


End file.
